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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24733948">Misapprehension</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaelumLapis/pseuds/CaelumLapis'>CaelumLapis</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DCU (Comics), Smallville</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:06:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,256</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24733948</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaelumLapis/pseuds/CaelumLapis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Luthor waited for the hurried voices to calm and quiet, and then he smiled benignly around the rather impressive set of fangs he was currently sporting.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Misapprehension</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer is, I don’t own them, not even a little. A blending of general Smallville lore with general DC lore, this is an unapologetically smart-alecky look at this superhero, this nemesis, and their sartorial choices.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="has-text-align-justify">Flashbulbs winked and sparkled frantically as he strode to the podium, an orgy of hyperactive and oversized fireflies. Lex Luthor stood calmly, hands clasped behind his back, as reporters fired off questions at him. It was almost possible for Superman to ignore the costume Luthor was wearing. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">
  <em>Almost.</em>
</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Luthor waited for the hurried voices to calm and quiet, and then he smiled benignly around the rather impressive set of fangs he was currently sporting.</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“Thank you all for coming. As you are probably aware, LexCorp is prepared to donate a significant amount of time and resources toward the grand opening of a new facility dedicated to medical research using nanotechnology. We believe in the future of nanotechnology and the possibility of significant advances in medicine as a result of using this technology to further efforts in the research of cancer and other terminal illnesses requiring long-term care.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Superman tried to covertly roll his eyes, but when several reporters in the front row seemed to notice, he settled for rolling them obviously. Luthor had a subtle lisp with the fangs that he was attempting unsuccessfully to hide with an even more subtle faux Eastern-European accent. It was threatening to make Superman burst into an uncharacteristic fit of giggles, and it was not heroic at all to giggle at your nemesis, especially when you are well on your way to getting really pissed off at him. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Just a month ago, in what had to be a blatant display of sadistic humor, Luthor had started wearing ridiculous costumes at any and all press conferences that, coincidentally, had Superman in attendance. Luthor had declined to comment on the nature of and possible motivation for his new and eccentric sartorial choices. He brushed off the press corps with the same Mona Lisa smile and chuckle every time they asked. After the expected rush of tabloid articles attacking Luthor’s sanity, the press had moved on to bigger news stories such as church scandals and the new Honda Civic that used petroleum jelly as fuel, and stopped asking, for the most part. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">So naturally, Superman had started attending any and all press conferences having anything to do with LexCorp. Not that he didn’t do so already, because keeping tabs on Lex Luthor was absolutely necessary for the safety of local citizens. He still had no idea how Luthor managed to keep a straight face during various LexCorp project announcements while dressed as George Washington (complete with a powdered wig and several unfortunate sneezes due to allergies to the powder), or a gorilla (he still wasn’t sure that had even been Luthor), or any of the various other costumes that an obscenely wealthy and wicked man with far too much free time could acquire. Luthor had yet to wheel out a Superman costume, but Lois Lane had a pool going at The Daily Planet office that was up to four hundred dollars that he would do so before Halloween. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Tonight it was Count Dracula, and Luthor had really outdone himself this time. The fangs alone looked like custom orthodontia and had to have cost a small fortune. The cape was black silk with a deep purple inner lining, and the remainder of the costume was black and perfectly pressed. Superman had begun to suspect after the first week that Luthor was doing this with the intention of mocking him. There could be no other explanation for it. It angered him, and so as the press conferences went on, Superman became progressively more and more irritated with the entire thing.</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">So it was no surprise that tonight, when Luthor gave him yet another vaguely amused look, that Superman had finally had enough of this nonsense to put a stop to it. He stepped forward decisively, fixing Luthor with a steely glare as he folded his arms across his chest in the ‘I mean business’ posture that he’d been practicing in front of the mirror for such an occasion. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“Just what is the meaning of this?”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">An entire roomful of eyes settled on Superman, and Luthor arched a brow. The resulting silence was thick and heavy, descending on the room and its inhabitants. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“I trust that you were briefed on the nature of this press conference before you attended, Superman.” Another hint of amusement flickered across Luthor’s eyes and settled into that maddening smile that gave away nothing. He turned back to the seated members of the press, opening the floor to questions and pointedly ignoring Superman. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“Not so fast, Luthor!” <em>God, that man was infuriating.</em> Superman crossed the space between himself and the podium. “I demand an explanation for this!”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“You demand an explanation for nanotechnology, Superman?” Luthor was definitely looking amused now.</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Superman glared in annoyance at Luthor, his hands closing into fists at his side as his ‘I mean business’ posture was dropped in favor of one that clearly indicated anger. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“No, I demand an explanation for the costumes, Luthor.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“Ah.” Luthor chuckled quietly and nodded to a female reporter who was waving her hand, and then proceeded to ask him about possible concerns that nanotechnology was still an unstable science. Superman folded his arms again and began tapping his foot. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">The female reporter paused, mid-question, and peered curiously at Superman. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">With a sigh, as if he were explaining basic mathematics to a simplistic child, Luthor swept his gaze back to Superman. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“It is Halloween, Superman. The citizens of Earth treat this as a day of celebration, with a colorful history of customs and traditions. One such tradition is the wearing of costumes.” </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">The female reporter hid her giggles behind her hand, and a soft titter of amusement rolled through the assembled press. Superman briefly considered very calmly smacking the back of Luthor’s bald head, and then settled for glowering at him and pointing out the obvious flaw in his otherwise airtight logic.</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“I know what Halloween is, Luthor. But that doesn’t explain every other day that you have worn a costume.” He gave him a smug look. <em>Take that, Lex! Erm… Luthor. Take that, Luthor!</em></p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“You are correct. It does not explain that.” And as if he’d just handed him a gold star for his effort, Luthor bestowed upon him another mysterious little smile and fixed his attention back on the female reporter.</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Superman just gaped at him for a moment, blinking a few times in surprise. Before he realized what he was doing, he had Luthor pinned to the wall with a spandex-clad arm held across his throat, and was shouting, “Tell me why! <em>Damn you</em>, tell me <em>why</em>!”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Luthor coughed politely, and Superman backed away rapidly then, looking at the astonished faces and flashing lights of the press behind him. “Oh <em>shit</em>,” he murmured softly. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Luthor smoothed his hands calmly over his suit and headed back for the podium, giving Superman a subtle wink on his way.</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Superman’s jaw dropped, and he sputtered indignantly. “I-you… you are a very <em>bad </em>man,” he said. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Luthor draped a cape-clad arm theatrically across his face and glared at Superman from over the fabric, his muffled voice saying something that sounded suspiciously like “Bite me.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Superman glared back and stormed out of the press conference, leaving his dignity behind. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-center">~~~</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Clark called in sick to work the next day, and after five minutes of CNN blaring the headline “Crazed Superhero attacks Metropolis Business Mogul” he flipped off the television set and sulked his way through the morning. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Around noon, Superman made an appearance on CNN, stating that he knew Luthor was up to no good with those costumes, and that he would uncover whatever foul plot was currently afoot. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">At precisely one PM, LexCorp released a press statement. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">The statement was brief, and read by none other than Lex Luthor’s personal assistant. It stated that LexCorp had recently decided to implement a new fundraising initiative for its employees, the charity of choice being a local orphanage. Each employee who contributed twenty-five dollars to the cause was allowed to specify a costume that the CEO should wear to a press conference in the month of October. A committee had compiled the suggestions, and thirty-one costume ideas had been chosen as a result of a company-wide vote. Employees had also signed an agreement not to disclose this fundraiser to the media. Luthor had promised to match the combined total of the employee donations, and additionally contribute ten dollars each time a member of the press asked about the costumes. The company had raised ten thousand dollars for the orphanage. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">With a smug smile, the newscaster added that Superman could not be reached for comment.</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Slouched heavily in his chair, Clark nursed a beer bottle and glared at his Lex Luthor dartboard, currently decorated with several colorful darts and a fork. The remote control was clenched in his other hand, and the TV was on mute, flickering colorful lights against his face. He was still wearing the Superman costume, although now well into his fifth beer he was looking rumpled and sulky rather than proud and heroic. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">The phone began ringing for the eighth time in as many minutes, and he glared at it balefully as he debated throwing his beer bottle at it. The machine clicked on again, and Martha’s voice filtered through the haze of his sulk.</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“Clark? Honey, I know you are home. Pick up the phone.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Wincing at the tone of voice she used, Clark discarded the remote control, shuffled over to the phone and snatched up the receiver. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“Hi, mom.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“What happened, Clark?” </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Shuffling his feet, Clark looked longingly at his beer as he set it down beside the phone. “He’s lying. He has to be.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“Clark.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“Mom! Come on! It’s Lex. He never does anything nice. Never. Not ever.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">The pregnant silence that greeted his outburst made him feel very small. When Martha spoke again, her voice was stern. “Clark, that is not true. And even if it were true, that still does not excuse your behavior. I’m very disappointed in you.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Clark winced and sighed. “I’m sorry, mom,” he said, quietly contrite. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“I’m not the person you should be apologizing to, Clark.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“Mom! I… I can’t.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“Clark.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">He ran his fingers slowly over label on the beer bottle, and wondered how Lex would treat a drunken apology from Superman. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“I… okay,” he conceded miserably.</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“Okay what, honey?”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify"><em>Damnit. </em>“Okay, I’ll apologize to him.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">He could almost hear Martha’s smile as she wished him luck, told him she loved him, and hung up. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-center">~~~</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Several bottles of beer, one wildly erratic flight path, and numerous disgruntled migrating flocks of geese later, Superman descended clumsily on the smooth brick surface of Lex Luthor’s balcony. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Lex smirked up at him from his seat on a comfortable-looking chaise. “Good evening, Superman.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“The same to you,” Clark slurred, planting both hands firmly on the chair beside him. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“Now that you have foiled my evil plot, are you here to lecture me on the dangers of donating to orphanages?”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“Shut up,” Superman retorted, blinking as Lex appeared to blur and then duplicate himself several times. “Just <em>shut up</em>, all of you.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">With a snicker, Lex reclined on the chaise. “Have a seat, Superman. Before you fall over,” he added, helpfully. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Begrudgingly, Superman conceded the point and flopped down in a chair, glaring at the crowd of Lexes seated on the grouping of chaise lounges. “<em>Listen</em>,” he said, slowly and carefully over enunciating every word, “I’m here to apologize.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">The Lexes gradually merged into one Lex who raised an eyebrow at him, and Clark mentally noted that having just one Lex to apologize to made things <em>much </em>easier.</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“Is that so?”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“Yeah. But only because Mom said I had to,” he confided, “and I always listen to her when she uses that tone of voice.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Lex sighed and stood, opening the door into the penthouse. “I think you should leave, not that you haven’t already said something you will regret later.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Moving as if stuck in glue, Clark rose up and bundled his cape around him, feeling suddenly cold. “But, I- look, Lex. I really am sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Lex pinched the bridge of his nose as he stepped inside and closed the door with a slam behind him. Clark fumbled with it for a moment, and stumbled into the penthouse after him. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“Get out.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“No.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“Cla,” a brief pause, “Superman… you are very obviously intoxicated.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Frustrated, Clark tugged on his cape, swaying a little where he stood. “Yeah, a little,” he admitted. “But I’m still sorry.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Lex stared at him for a minute, and then sighed. “Get out, Clark. Don’t say another word. Just get out.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Clark blinked as Lex blurred in front of him again. “You called me Clark,” he said, quietly.</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“<em>Fuck</em>. Clark. I’ve known it was you. I knew almost immediately. Get out, go home, and sleep it off before somebody else figures it out, you <em>idiot</em>.” Blurry Lex slowly cleared in his vision and was looking seriously pissed off. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“Wha-what?” Figuring out Lex when he was sober was difficult, but trying to understand Lex while he was drunk was impossible.</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Lex strode up to him, grabbed him by the shoulders, and glared at him. “We have had our differences, Clark, but your mother means a lot to me. You have many other enemies who would not be as understanding, and even with all my resources I have limits. I cannot protect her if you<em> fuck up</em> and reveal yourself as Superman. Go <em>home</em>.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Blinking, Clark finally realized something. “Lex?”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Lex growled under his breath and let go of Clark’s shoulders, “what?” </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“I’m sorry.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“You said that.” Lex glanced over at a decanter resting on the bar, with an expression of longing. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“No, not for that. Well, for that, too. For everything else.” Clark studied his feet intently. The bright color of his uniform hurt his eyes, so he peered cautiously back up at Lex. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Lex looked as if somebody had just punched him in the gut. “<em>Get out</em>.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“I- no.” Clark wobbled and steadied himself by grabbing onto Lex’s shoulder. “You do bad stuff sometimes. Lots of times. And I’m not sorry for being pissed at you about that. But I’m sorry I stopped believing you could do good stuff, too.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“Apology accepted,” Lex replied quickly, his face a calm, collected mask. “You may leave now.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Clark rested his other hand on Lex’s other shoulder and studied him, waiting until he could see just one of him again. “What if I don’t want to?”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“Hope and Mercy will encourage you to change your mind. They are <em>quite </em>persuasive.” Lex smirked at him, and it was an ugly smirk, an edgy one full of things he wouldn’t say.</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“Yeah, they are. But I can see through stuff, Lex. And they aren’t here.” Clark couldn’t resist grinning, just for a second. He was drunk, it was allowed. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“They are here. They are in a lead-lined room, and can be summoned at any moment if I wish it,” Lex retorted, his eyes flashing angrily.</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“Liar,” Clark said softly, and fixed Lex with a stern, if not somewhat amusingly over-dramatic look, “I’ve been meaning to mention the whole security thing to you anyway. You have lousy security, Lex. You always have.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Lex snorted, “You look absolutely <em>ridiculous </em>in that uniform, Clark.” But he was relaxing a little, the tightness around his eyes smoothing subtly.</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Laughing, Clark hugged him loosely. “Yeah, I know. But it keeps people from looking at me too closely. It’s really bright. And really uncomfortable,” he added.</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Lex stiffened at first when Clark hugged him, and then he chuckled and hesitantly hugged him back. “It looks uncomfortable. But at least it isn’t plaid.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“No, that would have been way too obvious,” Clark agreed, snickering. “Still my favorite color though.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“What, plaid?” Lex laughed, a real laugh that sounded surprised to be there, “<em>Plaid</em> is your favorite color?”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Clark giggled, “No. Red and blue, and yellow is. Are. My favorite colors.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“Mine is purple,” Lex confided, snickering. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Trying a look of shock on for size, Clark kept a straight face for all of two seconds before he clung to Lex tightly and burst out laughing. Lex chuckled softly and backed away, gently shoving Clark away from him.</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“You should go home, Clark.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“Yeah. I know.” Clark fussed with his cape for a few minutes, wondering when exactly it had tangled around his leg and gotten caught in his boot. “Lex?”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“Yeah?”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“Uh, I know I asked for lots of favors when we were friends back in Smallville, but-uh can I ask for another one?”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Lex sighed, his voice resigned and faintly annoyed. “Yeah. Go ahead.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“I- can I have another chance?” Clark studied his cape intently, yanking at the stubborn fabric.</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">A tiny, tight-lipped smile forced its way into the corners of Lex’s mouth when Clark looked up at him. He didn’t answer, and Clark waited.</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">When he finally spoke, Lex’s voice was rough and a little raw. “Go home, Clark.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“I miss this. I miss you. I miss hearing you talk, and joking about how fast you drive, and how easily every freak in Smallville broke into your house, and laughing about how uptight my dad was and how weird yours was, and wishing you would stop dating women who keep trying to kill you and start dating me, uh… <em>shit</em>.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Lex blinked in surprise. “You really should avoid drinking anything other than water, Clark.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“Yeah. I’ll do that,” Clark answered, looking around the room awkwardly. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Lex smirked and shook his head slowly, “I wish I’d gotten you drunk years ago. This might have been a very different conversation if it had happened then.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“Yeah?” Clark asked, looking curiously at him.</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Lex nodded, and crossed the space between himself and Clark with just a few steps. “Yeah,” he said. “I would never have done this,” and he leaned in, and kissed Clark softly as his fingers gently grasped hold of Clark’s cape and untangled it.</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Clark made a soft whimpering sound, because Lex was kissing him, and then he was gone, and that was so unfair, because he was wearing spandex, and that was <em>so </em>unfair. “Why… why not?”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Lex smirked at him, eyeing his crotch for a long moment. “Go home, Clark.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“You are a very <em>bad </em>man,” Clark glowered unevenly at him, crossing his arms in a ridiculous and rumpled parody of the usual gesture.</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“And you are a very drunk man,” Lex answered easily, as he clapped a hand to Clark’s shoulder and walked him toward the balcony door. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Clark sighed and pouted at him, “You never answered my question.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“Yes, I did,” Lex answered smoothly, “I’ll be here this weekend. Come back then, and we’ll talk. I’d prefer you were sober.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Clark beamed, a huge grin that took up his entire face. “Really?” He stepped carefully out the door, wobbling a bit on the smooth brick before steadying himself. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Chuckling, Lex waved to him, and Clark realized he was floating a foot above the stone floor of the balcony. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“Fly carefully, Clark.”</p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">“Thanks. I sorta pissed off some geese on the way over. I should probably not do that on the way back.” Clark grinned, letting his body float up gently so he was reclined on his back in mid-air, his arms behind his head. </p>
<p class="has-text-align-justify">Lex laughed and closed the door, and Clark beamed up at the stars, righted himself, and flew home under the soft yellow glow of a moon that rested low in the night sky.</p>
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